I was over at my sister’s house, recently, and noticed an interesting piece of artwork hanging on her wall. It appeared to be something homemade, it was kind of small and it was the only thing hanging on the big, bare wall.
It was some kind of a wreath, made of paper, with the image of my sister’s young son, smiling away, in the middle.
It seemed a little out of place, but I commented on it anyway.
My sister, imagining that was her cue, dashed into the living room to retrieve a huge stack of her son’s additional artwork. As I sifted through the pile of scribblings, I was startled and delighted to come across a sheet at the bottom of the pile.
I gasped. My sister, assuming I was thinking something else, quickly responded. “Uh, my son’s teachers have told me he’s a good boy. Perhaps not the most creative in the class, but…there’s still lots of time.”
I wasn’t really listening . I was already drawn in.
“Can I have it?” I asked. “I’d like to frame it.”
“Ummm..yeah..sure, if you’re sure.”
I took it home and it now sits on the center of my dining table.
I love it. It’s one of my favorite pieces of art.
Thanks little buddy.